


Day 8. Tracks in the snow

by Aroomie



Series: Witcher Winter Prompt Challenge [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, December prompt, Gen, Gore, Hurt, I am SO sorry!, I hate tagging, Not, mild?, winter prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aroomie/pseuds/Aroomie
Summary: OH MY GOD, I AM SO SORRY!!!.... Maybe.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Winter Prompt Challenge [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034913
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Day 8. Tracks in the snow

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD, I AM SO SORRY!!!
> 
> .... Maybe.

Geralt watched as his breath billowed out from his mouth, his gaze locked on the ground as he followed the imprints in the snow. He was supposed to be on his way back to the keep by now, starting the long difficult trek up the mountain, but instead, he was trudging through the snow in the middle of the woods and trying to track down a god’s damned Fiend.

Geralt had spent the better half of his journey home trying to ignore everything that had happened, everything he’s said, everything that’s gone wrong. 

Yennefer. Jaskier… Especially Jaskier. 

Geralt shook his head hard and tried desperately to dispel the train of thought, he needed to focus! Not dwell on his -the- stupid fucking bard. Geralt wiped a hand over his face, growling under his breath, and continued on his way. The tracks were easy enough to follow in the snow, still fresh, almost warm, and Geralt just hopped that this hunt would be over and done with so that he could collect his final pay and be on his way. 

The tracks lead to a cave, dark, dank, something a Fiend would find to stay warm to hibernate in during winter, perfect. Geralt drew his silver blade and snuck into the cave, stepping as lightly as he wound around the walls and naturally formed support pillars. 

There was a crunching noise, a sound that made Geralt’s nose curl as the smell of blood and fear filled his nose. Geralt took a step forward, entering a larger cavern, his boot catching on something that made him freeze in place. The crunching stopped for only a moment, the Fiend looking up from what it was doing and scented the air, Geralt was thankful he wasn’t there long enough for his smell to get further into the cave and the Feidn resumed what it was doing, that sickening crunching noise filling Geralt’s ears again. 

Geralt stepped further into the cave, oblivious to the fact that what he had caught his boot on was the neck of a broken lute… He walked further in, circling around the Fiend, thanking all the stars and gods that he may actually get this done quickly until he saw what was making that sickening crunching noise.

Geralt’s sword fell to the cave floor with a loud clatter, the metal hitting the rocks echoing. The Fiend, now realizing it wasn’t alone, turned towards Geralt while unceremoniously dropping the body dressed in crimson-stained baby blue doublet and matching trousers. The body was half-eaten, ribs gone, and exposing the insides of the human to the air of the cave, lifeless cornflower blues staring at nothing with a mouth gaped in a silent scream. Gerats gaze snapped back to the Fiend when it roared at him. 

He didn’t know what happened after that, one minute he was staring at Jaskier’s body, the next he was kneeling before it and soaked in Fiend blood. With shaking hands, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s body and cradled it to his chest, rocking gently back and forth, his vision blurring with unshed tears.

He realized that the body was still warm, still carried the scent of life, recent death. If Geralt had moved just that little bit faster, focused on the job instead of letting his mind wander, arrived in town the day before instead of camping in the woods, Jaskier would have still been alive.

Geralt screamed then, the realization that he was minutes away from being able to save his bard. He buried his face into Jaskier’s neck, uncaring of the blood and innards falling onto him, brushing back the bard’s hair while praying for a miracle he knows will never come.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look... I'm on [tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/witcherscrane)


End file.
